Let the Music Take You
by Lyon's Own
Summary: Maimed in the war, Draco heads to California to start a new life. Surprises bring new friends & old together, forcing Draco to face his past and forge his future. HD Slash! Fluff! Many OCs!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters and situations. They belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros, and other authorised copyright holders. I also don't own the rights to any musical piece named in this fic, including the folk song "Come to You Again." I, however, do own the plot of this, and any original items, characters, spells, composition titles, etc. do belong to me.

**A/N:** I actually started this story long before "Restoring Faith." RF sort of grew after an afternoon's frustration with this story and it grew and grew and grew…I shelved "Let the Music Take You," so I could work on "Restoring Faith," but as that story is coming to an end I thought I'd pick this one back up again. It's H/D SLASH so if that's not your thing use the back button, it's a nifty invention. Note that this story is rated M which implies a more explicit content than in some of my other fics. Also, I make no guarantees about regular posting. I seem to be slogging through this one. Don't worry I won't abandon any of my active fics. And yup…yet again this is unbeta'd…

oOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOo

_And you can let the music take you, follow where it leads  
Or turn it any way you want to, make it what you need.  
Lose yourself in dreamin' or sink yourself in pain  
Or maybe find yourself in love and it will come to you again_

**1.**

Michael lowered his friend onto the stone and steel bench gently; highly aware that if he injured Draco's legs the blond wouldn't feel it and an infection could set in. He hopped down the flight of stairs and brought up the wheelchair locking it into place next to bench.

Draco sighed, "After nearly 4 years you would think they'd get a clue about putting in a ramp!" He grumbled about penny-pinching administrators as he slid into his chair then pulled up the side support.

Michael snorted, "You'd think, but actually they're either just waiting for you to graduate so they don't have to modify this lovely historic building, or they're waiting for you to sue so they can tear it down and expand the stadium parking lot."

"I vote for the stadium parking lot. C'mon we're going to be late and you know how Hooks is about tardy arrivals." Draco easily pushed his chair down the hallway, grinning at Michael's attempts to keep up. Not that he'd stand a chance if Draco let loose--wheels beat feet every time--in the polished hallways anyways. He slowed as they reached their classroom and Michael held open the door as Draco wheeled in. He was glad he had decided to take this seminar with friends and that he and Michael always arrived together, as the room was hard for him to navigate alone and the professor, Dr. Hooks, was an arse when it came to special needs students.

"Ahh. Mr. Johnson, Mr. Malfoy, so nice of you to join us. Why don't you take your seats. Well…you should take a seat Johnson. Malfoy's already in his," the pompous little man chuckled at his lame joke and Draco rolled his eyes. He'd faced down his father and a cadre of Death Eaters in the last battle of the war. No small minded idiot was going to unnerve him. Draco parked slightly in front of Michael's desk as the desks and chairs were fixed in this room and his wheelchair wouldn't fit in the rows. It was annoying because Dr. Hooks would constantly toss in comments about Draco crowding the professor's space during lectures. He pulled out his notebook though and prepared himself for 90 minutes of unadulterated aggravation.

After class, Draco went with his other roommate, Celene, to the Student Union Café. "Gawd, that was even worse than usual. I swear I have never met someone who so totally gets off on hearing himself talk," Celene groused as she munched on her fries. "Seriously, if he didn't have tenure I swear his ass would be out of here."

Draco smiled as he sipped his coffee. Celene was flamboyant, colourful, brilliant and in the four years he'd known her, she'd never failed to sense when he was getting into a funk and pull him out before he got too deep. "Doesn't matter. The only reason people take his course is for the easy credits. It's the only senior level seminar that's set up with very little reading, and only 2 short papers. The man is a lazy arse, but it means I have more time to work on my recital pieces."

Michael slipped into the booth across from Celene at that moment, "Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting, the line is massive in there. So Dray, you were saying--recital pieces--how are those coming?"

Draco frowned, "They're not coming along as well as I'd hoped. I have an advisory meeting with Johansen Thursday to go discuss my latest revisions. I really need to get it all together by the end of next week. I know the semester just started but my recital is scheduled for late April, so I don't have a lot of time to get practice in."

Celene snorted, "Of course you do, you idiot. We've all pretty much been practicing what you've written as you've gone along, so it's not going to take that much to whip us into shape. We all happen to be pretty decent musicians you know." She slapped at her friend. She knew he was worried, he'd nearly driven their house mad over the summer with his revisions and his midnight sessions at the piano and his incessant, "What do you think of this stanza?" but she really felt his work was beautiful and she was honoured that she'd get a chance to finally perform with him, even if he _was_ a psychotic anal-retentive task-master. "So Draco, have you decided what the program's going to be yet?"

He looked up from his coffee. "Yes. Depending on what Johansen approves, I want the two quartet pieces first, then the break, the piano concerto and the aria last," he smiled at his friend.

"Ah Mr. Flair for the dramatic…if you insist," Celene tossed her head back and fluttered her lashes, "such a hardship, but for you, Draco dahh-ling, anything."

The platinum blond shook his head and smirked, "You know you love it Cele. They're all going to leave thinking how beautiful you are, so they'll forget it's my recital anyway."

The cocoa-skinned beauty blinked owlishly at him, "Isn't that the point?"

Draco snickered, Michael groaned and their resident diva cackled.

"Okay you two, I'm done for the day so I'm heading home. Callie and I have cooking duty so if you're eating at home dinner will be out by 7." Draco, unlocked his chair, grabbed his trash and wheeled away from the café tossing a casual wave over his shoulder.

It took 20 minutes to get from campus to the 5 bedroom house he'd shared with 6 other students from the Conservatory since his sophomore year. He owned it, though no one else knew. That first year he realised he'd hate dorm living within the first week--everything was the wrong height, or placed awkwardly, the hallways were too narrow, the bathrooms cumbersome. He hated feeling like he was failing at making the adjustment to his new life. Two weeks into the semester he knew he'd be living off campus the following year. He also knew he'd have a terrible time finding accessible off campus housing, so he'd decided to buy a house and have it renovated to meet his needs. He'd found the expansive one story rancher with wrap around patio and deck that featured a detached garage with mother-in-law apartment, a large fenced yard, an in-ground pool and even a small 2 bedroom guest cabin, two weeks into his search and he'd purchased it outright the day after he'd seen it.

Just before Thanksgiving break he met with a design firm, and the renovations were underway by Christmas. Spring of his freshman year he told some of his closer friends about the "ad" he'd seen for fully furnished accessible house for rent, and asked if they'd be willing to move in with him. They'd been really "lucky" to snag a "former professor's" house as a rental. And _he'd_ been really lucky in his choice of housemates. He was truly pleased that he'd chosen so well. All this time later and they were all still living together and got along so incredibly well. Sure there were arguments sometimes, especially over scheduling for the climate controlled soundproofed garage-turned-practice rooms, but they worked it out. For the first time in a very long time, since he'd left the home of his lover's arms, Draco felt there was somewhere he belonged.

As he pushed up the ramp to their porch he smiled at the sense of peace that being home brought.

After dinner and hanging out, Draco retreated to his room to work on several assignments and fiddle with his compositions. It amused him to no end that he'd decided to make his life in the Muggle world, but after the war, he just couldn't bring himself to be a part of the Wizarding world anymore. He'd seen so much death and destruction. The power plays and the heavy weight of guilt plagued him.

Besides he was a pariah. It didn't matter that he'd turned spy and worked for the Order of the Phoenix during the war or that during the final battle it was clear he'd fought against Voldemort and his forces, to the masses he was still Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, son of Voldemort's Lieutenant. He could never get away from the stigma of his name and so "hiding out" in the Muggle world was the best solution for him. As soon as he'd been healed enough to move he'd made arrangements. He'd taken advantage of the confusion that followed in the weeks after the war's end to attend to the logistics: freeing his house elves, appointing a manager for the Malfoy estates and investments, and closing his family's account at Gringotts before it could be seized by the Ministry of Magic and having it all transferred to a Muggle bank,. He was pleased to learn that wealth in the Wizarding world meant wealth in the Muggle world as well. And after some thought, and some planning, and a crash course in cultural awareness, he was off to California and Claremont Conservatory to be a Composition major.

He would live his life making music: to bring enjoyment to others, to bring peace or beauty or love or passion to an audience. He'd give something beautiful into the world because he'd seen so much life and beauty ripped out of it.

He worked for a couple of hours then noticed Celene had returned, so before she could get too cosy with her girlfriend, Draco grabbed her and dragged her off to a practice room to go through (what he hoped were) the last revisions to his lengthy aria. Callie, of course, came along. When the last note faded away, Callie had tears in her eyes and he knew the piece was what he'd meant it to be. He thanked them both quietly, picked up the sheet music and wheeled away to deal in his own way with the tears he hadn't been able to shed.

Cele's smile was bittersweet as she watched Draco enter the house. He'd found the house and brought them all together, and they had truly become her family. He was the big brother she'd never had, and just like a big brother, he took care of her and protected her, but sometimes she wished he'd just come to her as a friend and talk to her about what had hurt him so badly. The aria was beautiful and poignant and terribly bitter yet triumphant. And spoke to something deep within. It was the sort of piece that came from the intimately knowing life and death, the joy of discovery and the soul bitter ache of loss, of beauty and abject horror and she desperately wanted to know how a 22 year old man had come to experience such things so fully.

She doubted he'd ever tell, it was as likely as him acknowledging that he'd written the aria just for her to perform because she'd been passed over for so many opportunities at Claremont Conservatory, which meant more to her than she could ever say. His work had already caught some important national attention and they all knew there would be some rather influential people making an appearance at his senior recital.

By giving her a complex and poignant aria to sing as his finale he'd provided her a chance to showcase her talent more broadly than any school performance would. In that single action he was making up for every role she'd lost to someone the Voice Department Director felt "looked" the part more than she did. This was his shot at the big leagues and he was bringing her along for the ride.

Four months later, their happy house was a study in chaos as 6 people ran (or wheeled) around looking for cuff links, begging help with zips and buttons, fiddling with jewellery, failing at tying bowties and generally getting ready for Draco's senior recital. For Bree and Michael, the recital was important on another level, as they'd both taken independent project credits this semester and their performances were being counted as their final grades. Callie was a wreck because Cele was a bundle of nerves; Jonathan worried that he'd miss the transition he'd been having problems with the last few weeks and throw everyone off, ruining the first quartet piece and Draco's recital and therefore his life. Paul was in music education, but seeing his housemates and his boyfriend in a tizzy was driving him to distraction and Draco…well…they were all wondering where their mild mannered, even tempered, dynamic friend had gone, because the sneering, screaming, impatient ass that was issuing commands like some sort of crown prince was not anyone they knew. As for Draco himself...he was ready to kill for a bottle of firewhiskey and a time-turner.

Eventually though, they all were dressed appropriately and made it to the Catherine Janefield Hall. Bree, Michael, Jonathan and were onstage and ready, Dr. Johansen had made his introductory comments and finally Draco wheeled onstage. He looked out into the audience, not that he could really see much with the bright lights and cleared his throat. He introduced each member of the quartet and announced the first two pieces, "The Sorting" and "The Tournament." He rolled back from the microphone, wheeled into place next to Paul and picked up his violin.

When the break arrived he went back to the dressing room and tried to hold it all together. They'd done well. And if the applause was any measure, the audience had enjoyed his compositions. The second half of his recital though…that was the true test. He'd be performing several pieces for piano and then Cele would sing his aria. It had been difficult to revisit his memories for that material. He'd told himself he was writing it to bring himself closure, but it felt in some ways he felt he'd only been ripping the scabs from his still healing wounds.

It was a lover's lament, telling the story of her hero, his destiny a burden, his life one of hardship, discovery, betrayal and restored hope, his valiant battle with evil and his triumph. There was also the story of their love. Two beings from different social worlds, their families enemies, who grow to love each other in secret and only by chance is their love revealed to one another. A beautiful and fragile relationship blooms and then the battle comes and she must choose--her hero and her truest love, or her family and the way of life she's always known.

She chooses rightly and stands beside her lover. The battle rages around them and she's forced to kill her own father who with his dying breath lashes out and disfigures her. The hero defeats the evil lord and his followers but during the night of their victory she realises they can never be together for she will never overcome the taint of her family name or the sins they committed. She leaves him before dawn breaking her heart so he can retain his honour and glory.

It was Harry's story and his, well--except for the leaving in the night part,and in a way it had felt wrong writing it in his third language, but English was out of the question, and Cele was wonderful with Italian, her French wasn't as good and he wanted this to be perfect. In the program the Italian lyrics were printed along with an English summary, in it he'd passed the story off as an adaptation of an old folktale, though he'd had a bit of trouble convincing Johansen that his aria deserved a title as grand as Trionfo D'Amore: La Storia Del Ragazzo Che E Sopravvissuto'. He couldn't call it anything else though--when all was said and done, the story of the Boy-Who-Lived _was _love's triumph. Still, he was nervous as hell about it. And he'd never heard it in its entirety. He'd practiced bits and pieces with Cele, and was, each time, moved beyond speech, but he'd never been able to bring himself to hear it all.

Before he knew it, the break was over and he wheeled himself back onto the stage taking his place before the piano for the second half. He pulled the microphone down and spoke to the gathered crowd. "These last pieces hold particular significance to me and I would like to dedicate them to some very special people who taught me a great deal about what is truly important in life. I've listed them in the acknowledgements of the program, but I'd like to call attention to them now. So the following are dedicated to Albus Dumbledore, Ernie McMillan, and Ginerva Weasley, who are no longer with us; and to my living heroes: Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and most especially Harry James Potter."

He'd scrapped the idea of one concerto for 5 separate compositions "On the Pitch," "By the Lake," "The Great Hall," "The Order," and "Battlefield." As he'd written them he laughed, thinking that if anyone got a clue the Ministry's Obliviators were going to be really busy with memory charms.

By the end of "Battlefield" he was exhausted. He'd poured every bit of himself into his playing--all his passion, his anger, his pain, his pride, his love…everything. He desperately wanted them to feel as he'd felt…he wanted them to know the exhilaration of flying and the thrill of the chase; wanted them to feel the honour and camaraderie that bound members of the Order of the Phoenix to each other and the rightness of their cause; he wanted them to despair on the battlefield and hold their breath in anticipation of the end, hoping against all that they would emerge victorious, if not unscathed.

When he was finished the hall was silent. He rolled away from the piano and bowed, then gratefully gave the stage to Johansen who had a strange look in his eye, but Draco would think on that later. His advisor introduced Cele and then Draco was caught in the web of his own making and let the power and clarity of Cele's voice take him back to all he'd known and given up.

An unrelenting roar returned him to the present and it took some time before he recognised the sound as thunderous applause. It was well deserved, Cele had been magnificent. And he was really glad he hadn't heard the completed piece before tonight. It was awesome, and horrible, and he couldn't stop the tears. He didn't realise until Bree wiped his face and held him, that he'd been sobbing, but he regained himself quickly enough when Johansen hissed that he needed to come and make his final bow. He collected the bouquets he'd had prepared and presented them to his housemates, his friends--his family. He pulled Cele down to kiss her cheek, and thanked her. Finally, he turned to the audience and bowing his head, and was rather surprised that the applause grew even louder. Draco blushed, bowed again, and rolled offstage right into...

Hermione Granger.

Oh, she was older, taller, more polished--her hair was styled and curled casually around her shoulders, but her eyes were still bright with the spark of keen intelligence. Draco rubbed his eyes. "Her-her-hermione?" he huffed out quietly. He didn't catch her response since he passed into the dark of unconsciousness as soon as she opened her mouth.

**Tbc…**

**A/N 2:** I am not a student of languages, but Viridiana corrected my first attempt. I still extend my deepest apologies to the Italian speakers out there for botching it the first time…for the rest of us…in English the title of Draco's aria 'Trionfo D'Amore: La Storia Del Ragazzo Che E Sopravvissuto,' is 'Love Triumphant: The Story of the Boy Who Lived'

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters and objects. They belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros, and other licensed copyright holders. I also don't own the rights to any musical piece named in this fic, including the folk song "Come to You Again" (which is public domain, by the way). The plot, any original items, characters, spells, composition titles, etc. are mine, however. Yup, mine, mine, mine, so there…hah!

**A/N:** Okay…things to be aware of 1) this is H/D SLASH rated M, so not for the kiddies, though at this point it's nothing too racy 2) This chapter will introduce some OCs. I want to stress now that this is not a Mary-Sue fic, but since this fic is AU, not having anyone to interact with would make things rather dull for Draco 3) Still on the OCs…Callie, who you'll be meeting this chapter, has a bit of a potty-mouth, so frequent use of expletives should be expected. 4) This is unbeta'd so be patient with my errors. I am no grammarian, though thanks to skbar, I am paying more attention to comma usage. 5) My apologies for not responding as quickly or individually to responses as I sometimes do, but 'puter's being all wonky lately. 6) THANK YOU! to all those who've reviewed already. You all make me feel so special…I love that! So uh…this is my shameless plea to please continue reviewing!

That said…on with the show…

**2.**

He blinked as he opened his eyes, the early dawn filtered into his window steadily. He stretched, wiped the sleep from his eyes, then flipped a switch to lower some grab bars over his head. He ran through some easy exercises, and when he finished, he used the bars to get to his chair, then retracted the bars, and wheeled himself across the room. Another set of bars helped get him to the low platform where he did his daily exercises. He went through the usual routine, massaging his thighs, flexing and relaxing the muscles there, then worked his way through muscle groups up his body until even his face was relaxed.

He knew he was fortunate. muggle science wouldn't have been able to repair much of the curse damage, he would have been paralysed from mid-chest down and probably would have been on a ventilator. Magic restored all but the feeling from just above his knees down. He went through the rest of his routine--mostly strengthening exercises, and ones to keep him limber, pulled himself into his chair, and headed for his bathroom. He smirked, remembering the uproar when he'd claimed the master suite…sure, the room was huge, but it was also the most accessible bedroom in the house. There was a sleeping area with his four poster bed, his bed side tables and the small shelving unit that held his current pleasure reading. He'd decided against bed curtains for safety reasons, though he sometimes missed being able to shut the world out and secrete himself in the soft, warm, dark of a bed's hiding place.

The exercise area was the raised platform, a weight bench, and the exercise machine where he did his afternoon workout after his visits with his physical therapist. It had amused him to no end when they'd hosted their first barbeque the summer after they'd moved in and Cele got a look as his body as he slipped into the pool. He'd blushed at the fuss she'd made and the catcalls that followed from nearly everyone else. He supposed he looked okay, but how he looked didn't really matter to him anymore. Malfoy vanity was an act he'd dropped during the war. Besides, what _was_ important was keeping his body healthy because he didn't want being in a chair to limit his ability to enjoy life. He'd wanted people to see him as more than just a bloke in a wheelchair. To do the things he wanted, like play basketball at the Rec centre in town, or get around their sprawling campus quickly, he needed to be fit.

His study area held a desk and shelves where he did his schoolwork, and a small curtained alcove where he kept a second-hand spinet, his guitar and violin and a couple of music stands. The alcove was centred around a large bay window with a view of the garden patch in the backyard, and a comfy bench because he found he wrote well there. And when he needed to, the heavy tapestry curtains made it so he could hide out sometimes.

It was his dressing area and lounge that had sparked the rumblings amongst his housemates. The extended vanity and long low dressers were very simple, but elegant, and the height made it easy for him to get to his clothes without any awkward stretching. The walk-in closet was what got Cele going…granted it was bigger than what he needed, but he liked being able to turn around in it, and again the bars were hung a much lower than standard height so he could reach them easily. He was pretty sure she'd been jonesing over the motorised shoe rack mounted above the clothes though...it would be a fun accessory for her, but he found it made storing his shoes out of the way much easier. He just held the rotation button until the cubby with the right shoes was over the "elevator" platform hit the down button and 'voila!' his shoes were delivered.

The lounge was his comfort zone--the small leather sofa and matching club chairs faced the small fireplace where he'd bring his friends in for late night chats sometimes. Occasionally, he considered having it hooked up to the Floo network, but he talked himself out of that decision every time.

The bathroom was what had really gotten to his housemates. It was the tub…if he'd been smart he would've made sure each of the 3 full bathrooms had a spa tub. One of the others did though, so maybe it was just that he didn't have to share his with anyone else. Personally, his favourite was the shower, it was easy to get into, everything was placed at the right height, and there were shower heads on opposing walls so getting clean was a pretty blissful experience.

Since he'd had his morning stretch, he sorted his daywear and set out what he needed, then went in for a good clean. When he'd finally pulled himself away from the shower he dressed, ran a comb through his near-waist length hair, and headed for the kitchen where the other early riser would be making an appearance soon.

He started coffee, grabbed a muffin and waited for Callie. He drank his coffee, ate his muffin, and waited for Callie. He poured another mug, fiddled with the plate of muffins, and waited for Callie. When he started hearing his other housemates getting ready for the day he got antsy. Even when she was sick, Callie got up to join him for coffee or tea by 7. Worried, Draco wheeled down the hallway to the room she shared with Cele, and knocked on the door.

"Callie? Callie, querrida, are you awake?" He knocked again and waited, worry mounting, then heaved a sigh of relief when his rumpled housemate poked her head out.

"Draco--what are you doing up at this god forsaken hour?"

He frowned. "You weren't at breakfast." He said matter-of-factly, then smiled at Callie's infamous 'scrunchie thinking face.'

"Breakfast? Is it that late already? Whatimeizit?"

He looked at his watch, "quarter to eight."

Her eyes popped open, "Shit! I'm gonna be late!" The feisty Chicana whirled around and shut the door on him, but just as he'd turned to head back to his room the door swung open again.

"Shit, Draco, where are our brains? It's Saturday. No class. But are you okay?"

He frowned at her again, "What do you mean, 'am I okay?'"

She leaned over and brushed a loose lock from his face examining him closely. "You passed out sweetie. Do you remember? Fuck, I knew we should've taken you to the hospital, but Jonathan was sure you'd be fine."

It all came crashing back then--his recital, being tired after the piano pieces, Cele's perfectly heart-rending performance, and leaving the stage and running into Hermione Granger. Suddenly it was very hard to breathe, and his vision started going spotty. He snapped out of it to find Callie shaking him, and Cele kneeling by his side.

"Fuck! Draco, don't **do** that! What the hell is that? You scared the shit out of me again!" Callie hollered. "That was even worse than last night. Then, you just passed out; you didn't do the whole panic attack, not breathing shit!"

He looked up and found his friend was shaking, worry and fear written all over her face. He pulled her down for a hug, "Sorry. Sorry honey. I didn't mean to scare you. Umm-I saw someone last night. Someone I never thought I'd see again, and it kind of shocked me I guess."

He let her loose and clasped Cele's hand, "I guess I--kind of blanked out last night's memories, and it all just came back to me just now. It was a little overwhelming." He looked at the girls and realised they were both in just their night gowns, and smiled, "Why don't you two throw on your robes and have some breakfast, and tell me what happened okay?"

The girlfriends looked to each other in silent communication and Cele nodded, "Give us 5 minutes, Dray."

Closer to fifteen minutes later, the couple slid into the diner-booth style breakfast nook, and poured themselves mugs of hot coffee. Draco noticed with a smile, that Cele had changed into a bright red button-up and blue jeans with multicoloured patches all over. And of course, her hair was _done_. Callie, on the other hand, was only marginally less rumpled than she'd been before, her curly dark hair hastily pulled up in a loose and messy bun. Well at least he knew what had taken so long.

"Okay spill, what happened last night?"

Cele looked at him worriedly, "What exactly do you remember? We'll fill you in from there."

"I remember everything until I left the stage that last time, then it's a blur, and I guess I passed out."

Callie nodded, "There was a woman at the edge of the ramp, and when you saw her you said something, and then you were gone." She shook her head, clearing away her remembered fear. "She said she was a doctor, so she checked you over said something about you being in shock, to keep you warm and let you sleep it off. Jonathan and Paul wheeled you out, and brought you home. Bree, Cele, Michael and I stayed to schmooze with your adoring public, and answer questions, and generally smooth things over with Johansen, who by the way, is absolutely furious."

Draco dropped his head on the table, "Bloody hell. How bad is it?"

Cele shook her head, "It's bad Dray, evidently a couple of really important people wanted to speak to you after the recital, and he'd already promised them a private audience with you during dinner. When he found out you'd left he nearly blew a fuse. I swear that twitching vein in his forehead looked like it was about to come out of his skin. You may have some serious ass-kissing to do today."

Draco groaned, "He never said anything about a dinner. And why couldn't he have taken one of you to meet the big wigs?"

Callie looked at Cele and smiled. When neither responded, Draco raised his head, "Okay what happened 'cause you both look like the cat that ate the canary."

Callie nodded at her girlfriend. "Well…" Cele started, "We couldn't go be liaisons with _your_ big wigs, because _we_ had a big wig of our own to deal with…"

Draco's face lit up, "Who? What happened? I'm dying of suspense here!"

Callie grinned, "Cele's been offered a position with the Philadelphia Opera Company after graduation. Well…it's contingent, but it doesn't matter. They're sending a couple of people back for her senior recital in May, but they were quote very impressed with her range and ability to convey depth and emotional complexity so powerfully end-quote."

Draco threw back his head and pumped his fist, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! This is **_so _**what we've been waiting for! Congratulations baby-girl!" He felt like his face was going to split in half, he was smiling so widely.

Cele actually blushed and Draco was taken aback, he didn't think he'd ever seen the young woman blush before. But she was, and even looking down at the mug with a small secret smile, "Thanks Draco, but you _know_ it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't written such a kick-ass piece then tailored it for me."

He looked up at her, eyebrow raised. "Don't give me that look, Draco Malfoy. You know exactly what you did. You knew you were making me the showpiece of your recital and _I_ know _damn_ well that you only write in Italian as a last resort and we both know my French pronunciation needs work, but my Italian is supreme. You-you--"

Draco grew alarmed as Cele's eyes filled with tears, "You _made _me a chance because no one in the Voice Department has been willing to give me one." She sniffed and wiped her eyes, "and you believed in me enough to trust that awesome piece to my voice..." A little embarrassed by the emotional display, Cele hid her face in her hands while Callie picked up.

"The reception was pretty amazing and a little overwhelming for her Dray. I mean suddenly _everybody_ wanted to talk to her, wanted to know her primary teacher in the Voice Department, how long she's been singing, yadda yadda. People who haven't given her the time of day since we got here were suddenly trying to be her best friend. And Maxwell, that pompous, racist, overgrown wart of a woman, was suddenly gushing about how 'talented' Cele is, and how the Voice Department is 'just _so proud' _of her. She trailed us the whole reception trying to get a word in when people came to talk to Cele. It was pretty disgusting."

Cele shook her head, "Enough about the Voice department's evil primabitch and bane of my existence okay?" She patted her girlfriend's arm, "Back to you. We really tried to keep it together, and we were able to answer a couple of questions people asked about your stuff Dray, but we were all really worried. And that woman and her friends stayed the whole time, and when things wound down they wanted to know--"

Bree stuck her head into the kitchen, brash red curls that had always reminded Draco of the Weasley clan, stuck out in every direction, "Mojo, those people from last night are here for you. I just stuck 'em in the living room 'kay? And keep it down, some of us are sleeping in today." Still grumbling, she disappeared as quickly as she'd come. Bree was notoriously _not _a morning person.

Draco gasped. People. Hermione wasn't alone. What did that mean? Who was with her? Draco felt light-headed and the spots were coming again.

This time it was Cele shaking him that brought him back to the present, a fierce scowl on her face, "I'm not sure I want you seeing those people, Draco. Every time we've mentioned them you get all pale--well paler, which is not good for an already lily-white boy like yourself, 'cause you look nearly _translucent_, and nearly pass out. Do you want me to send them away?"

Draco shook his head. "No. No I'll see them," he soothed weakly. "You said they stayed for the reception. Did they talk to you?"

Callie nodded, "The woman, Hermione--I think her name was, said she was an old friend of yours from school. They didn't have a place to stay set up, so we invited them to stay with us. We put a few in the guestroom over the garage, and a couple in the guesthouse. Was that alright? They all seemed nice enough. We had already guessed maybe you'd gone into shock because it'd been so long since you've seen them. I mean you never go home, Draco, and you never talk about your family, or your life in England so we thought it might be good for you to see them."

Draco waved off her concern, "How many people did Mione have with her?"

"It was her, two older men, one who looked like an extra from some vampire movie and another who looked like he's been carrying the weight of the world for too long, two young guys, about our age, and another woman, also about our age who--not to judge or anything Draco, but she looks like a pug…"

Draco laughed, "Pansy Parkinson, and don't worry you're not the first to make that comparison and I doubt you'll be the last."

Callie snickered, "Well hopefully there was enough room for everybody. But the body language screamed couples, so my guess is that everyone had a bed. I don't know.

Anyway, if you're going to talk to them you should go. It's rude to keep them waiting."

Cele agreed, "It is rude to keep them out there too long. But do you want us to come with you?"

He shook his head, "I'll be alright. I think they'll stay tonight too so why don't you let everyone know we're still on for the recital celebration dinner at Eva's, and I'll do introductions then." He pulled back from the table then noted the worried looks and smiled at these women he'd come to love as sisters, "Don't worry. I'll be fine. And congrats again, sunshine. You did really well last night. I was so proud of you."

Cele blushed again and waved him off, "Thanks Dray, now go make nice with the foreigners before they start thinking all Americans are like 'morning Bree'."

Draco shuddered dramatically then headed to the living room. He wheeled in smiling, though he was nervous as hell, "Good morning everyo--"

His face fell. When Callie said his visitors were all couples and there were two men, he'd assumed she'd meant Ron Weasley and Blaise Zabini, thinking that Blaise and Pansy had finally gotten together. Never in a million years did he imagine…He looked up into the startling green eyes that haunted his dreams, and on bad days, his waking hours too. Once again he passed out.

He was dreaming and he didn't want to wake up. His face was gently caressed by familiar calloused fingers and warm sweet breath tickled his cheek. The air around him smelled of Harry and for a while he was truly complete. From bitter experience though, he knew when he opened his eyes the illusion would be broken and he would once again be alone. Steeling himself for the ache that had become second nature, Draco opened his eyes and gasped as he found himself trapped by the emerald gaze he dreamed of nightly. He reached up, pulled Harry down and kissed him. This was the best dream he'd had in a long time. It was so real he could even _taste_ his one-time lover. That sweet spiciness that was all his own and called to something deep and primal in Draco. When the composer broke the kiss, he caressed his lover's face, and smiled at the other man's chuckling, "This is my dream. You're not supposed to laugh at me in my dreams, Harry."

"It's no dream Sleeping Beauty! Now get up before I have to endure another interrogation by those screeching harpies you call flatmates!" snapped an edgy, familiar voice from the end of his bed.

Draco shot up, eyes wide, and took in the scene. Severus Snape was indeed sitting at the foot of his bed, tightly gripping Remus Lupin's hand between his own. Hermione and Ron sat to his left. Pansy was to his right and beside him…beside him… "Harry?"

The man in question scooted closer and drew Draco into his arms, "your one and only, Dragon." He tucked a stray lock behind Draco's ear and kissed his temple.

"We've been so worried Draco. This is the second time you've passed out and your friends said you had two panic attacks this morning. We knew seeing us would be a shock but we didn't think it would be this bad," Hermione said, gently taking his hand and checking his pulse.

"Well, if you're shocked, Draco, it serves you right after the scare you gave us all. Disappearing like that. We were scared--er, concerned that you might have been taken by the remaining Death Eaters. We searched everywhere for you." The Potions Master grumped.

Confusion furrowed the blond's brow, "Why?"

"_Why **what **_you stupid ferret! _Why _were we all _**scared** to death_, despite what the greasy git said? _Why _were we searching everywhere for you? _Why _we were so worried that we never heard from you after we figured out that you'd gone into the muggle world all alone? _Why _were we all so relieved when Mione goiggled your name on the interknit and came across some newspaper articles about you so we finally knew where you were? _Why _did she fellytone the school last week?"

With a sheepish shrug, Ron paused, "Actually…I don't know why she did that, but that doesn't matter. **_WHY _**did we all apparate in last night to see you and hear the most beautiful music I've ever heard in my life? Oh, I don't know you arse, maybe because we **LOVE **you!" A teary eyed Ron flushed, which clashed terribly with his hair, then added, "Oh, and 'cause living with a pining, lovesick Harry is no lap 'round the pitch." He sniffed and tried not to draw further attention to himself as he wiped his face on his sleeve.

Draco blinked at the increasingly loud Weasley tirade, then swung his head round as someone pounded on his door. The voice was muffled--he'd had all the bedrooms soundproofed during the renovation--but from the tone he guessed it was an irate Cele. "Open Caraway," he called out and the electronic voice sensitive locking mechanism slid back. A moment later the door flew open and his plump, soundly curvaceous roommate stormed in, surveyed the scene, and tossed Ron nearly across the room. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! COMING INTO **_OUR _**HOUSE AND YELLING AT **_MY _**FRIEND!" She turned to Draco, who was still somewhat shocked that she'd managed to toss Ron so far, and pushed Hermione out of the way. "Are you alright Dray? I've been so worried. Do you want these people to leave? Should I call the police?"

Draco smiled, "Yes. No. No. I'm fine, Cele. And Ron, who you so…efficiently displaced just now, was just um-venting a little frustration." His eyes grew sad and she stroked his hand, "I-I didn't tell anyone when I left for the States. I kind of just disappeared, and I guess--well…they've been worried."

Warm velvet brown eyes glinted something fierce, "I understand then. Let me tell you right now Draco Malfoy. You pull something like that on me and I will kick your scrawny ass from here to Tanzania. You got me?"

He pulled himself sitting and chuckled, "Yes, sunshine. No more disappearing acts."

She stared at him for a few moments and finally found the reassurance she'd been looking for. She nodded, then tossed her head toward the end of the bed. "I'll leave you to catch up then. 'Cause I'm sure there are some people in here who'd like a little privacy while they rip you a new asshole. I'm going to call Eva's and add 6 to our reservation for tonight okay?"

Draco nodded. She dropped a gentle kiss on his lips and sashayed from the room closing the door behind her. Draco cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to smother his grin at the shocked faces around the room, "Ahem. I take it Sev that Cele, who has a bit of…flair for the dramatic, was one of the--uh 'screeching harpies' you mentioned earlier."

His godfather scowled, "Yes…and _'Open Caraway' _Draconis?"

He blushed, "It's a voice activated electronic lock." He looked into mostly blank faces, "muggle technology that locks and unlocks things by vocal command. I tend to lock my door when I'm alone in here and it makes things easier when someone comes by and wants to see me. Or if I fall and can't get back to my chair I can call for help and unlock the door. Open Caraway is just my unlocking code. I thought it was sort of funny…you know from that muggle story Arabian Nights, the password to the thieves' hideaway is 'open sesame'…anyway, I hate sesame seeds. I have other codes for emergencies though."

He noticed the blanched faces and added quickly, "Don't worry, it's precautionary. I haven't had any emergencies like that. I've adjusted pretty well to a life without legs and get around fairly well without help."

The silence grew uncomfortable and finally Harry spoke. "We know now why you left luv, but why didn't you…I don't know…we would've helped Dragon. You were so hurt, and then the next thing I knew, you were gone and I-I…" Harry's tears fell, and Draco opened his arms. His former lover went eagerly and curled into him as he cried silently onto his shoulder.

Draco rubbed circles on Harry's back knowing the other man would pull away when he was ready, and until then he was content to offer comfort. "I didn't want to be a burden. I wanted to make my way on my own if I could. And it didn't matter anyway, I couldn't tell any of you why I was leaving. It would have defeated the whole purpose and it's not like anyone really trusted me anyway. It was better that I just go."

Draco scrunched his nose as a disturbing thought came to him, he looked at each person in the room and settled his gaze on his godfather and his lover, "And just how did you figure out why I left?"

Snape snorted, "Really Draco. 'Love's Triumph: The Story of the Boy Who Lived?' Could you be any more obvious?"

He gaped, "But it's--"

Remus cleared his throat, "I spent a lot of time in Italy after I left Hogwarts Draco. I translated the lyrics you printed in the program during the intermission."

Draco pulled his hand over his face, "Well that explains that…And I'll have you know Sev, that I fought my advisor long and hard for that title and whether you think it's soppy or not _I _think it's quite fitting, and being as it's _my _piece, really my opinion is the only one that matters." He added a bit haughtily.

The corner of Snape's mouth raised in the barest hint of a grin, "I see you've lost none of your…strength of character--during your sojourn amongst the muggles, Draco. And it is, I suppose, fitting as you are still obviously a love-sick fool." The Potions Master sniffed, "However, despite your lapse into acute sentimentality, I admit I was…uncommonly moved by the piece and your dedication."

The flaxen-haired man smiled, his godfather's praise was always granted sparingly, so he was extraordinarily proud to receive and know his work was appreciated by the cynical man. "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_," Hermione interrupted. "It was beautiful-- so wonderful Draco. It was like being pulled back through time. The music took me on this incredible journey through your memories. And even the painful parts, the hard parts…when I had to remember how many died, and how much was destroyed, were beautiful because it made grieving a process of finding peace and acceptance. And then there was such-such joy in victory and it was like coming into the knowledge that everything had a purpose and the world really _was _better despite everything that was lost, and there was hope that we could _rebuild _some of what was broken, even though we'll never forget that some is lost forever. It was healing in a way I never knew I needed, and I think it was like that for all of us."

He smiled gently and sighed, "Then I did it right. The music was to lead, and the audience to follow, even if for the muggles it was just an emotional journey, and not one of remembrance."

"It was powerful mate. All of it." Ron added

"And we're very proud of you Draco," Pansy finally spoke. She sighed, "I'm just going to say what everyone's skirting around because otherwise we'll be here all day. We want you to come home Draco. Hermione figured out where you were two weeks ago, and we've been frantic to see you since, but decided it would be best to wait and come to your recital. You are wanted and _welcome _at home. Everyone knows what you did. Harry nearly exploded The Daily Prophet offices when they wrote an article that named you as a Death Eater and condemned you as a traitor and a coward. They printed a retraction and a statement from Harry and the Order the next day. You're not a pariah. You're a hero. And now that we've found you, we don't want to loose you again."

Draco hung his head; it was all too much to hope for--he could go home again. But, he'd built a new life here, and he had friends who'd become family. He didn't want to loose them. Harry chocked on a sob then and he looked down to see his lover hadn't stopped crying, he was in fact, shaking now. Draco looked up helplessly and caught Remus' eye. The werewolf nodded and stood.

"I think Harry and Draco need some time alone. So why don't we uh-head into town and walk around for a bit." He started to usher the room's occupants towards the door.

Draco cleared his throat, "It's too far to walk into town from here, but there's the bus or you can ask one of my housemates for keys to the Expedition." He and Hermione shared a grin at the perplexed expressions throughout the room.

"It's a muggle vehicle like the one we have," She said in explanation. "It's okay Draco. We apparated to the airport and I rented and SUV for us. Why don't you and Harry meet us in town around 3?"

He checked the time, nearly 10, and nodded, "On the corner of Morris and Main there's a bookshop, The Tattered Cover, they have a really nice café. We'll meet you there at half three. It's a big shop so you won't miss it, and there's plenty of parking on the street."

Hermione nodded as everyone made their way out of the room then closed the door.

They were alone.

Draco's heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

"Dragon?"

Draco ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair until he'd finally calmed, "Hmm?"

"You've made a good life here."

"Thank you. I've worked hard for it," He smiled. Harry was still the same; he'd start emotionally sensitive conversations with a statement that could be taken any number of ways--as a compliment, a question, a judgement and gauge how to proceed from the response. And he knew exactly how Draco responded to his opening gambits. He could feel Harry smile against his chest and grinned himself.

"You're not going to play are you?"

"Do I ever?"

"I really should stop trying that with you shouldn't I?" the smile didn't fade.

"Yes, you should, but you knew that already. Now what was it you really wanted to say or ask?"

Stalling, Harry pulled himself from Draco's shoulder, and lay next to him on the bed, "I've missed cuddling. Come cuddle with me."

Tbc….


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters and objects. They belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros, and other licensed copyright holders. I also don't own the rights to any musical piece named in this fic, including the folk song "Come to You Again" (which is public domain, by the way). The plot, any original items, characters, spells, composition titles, etc. are mine, however. Yup, mine, mine, mine, so there…hah!

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay, my computer's been a bit temperamental-grrr! Anyhoo, this is slash and not a whole helluva lot happens this chapter, c'est la vie. And THANKS to all those who've reviewed! For those who've been waiting for the recital dinner, my apologies…you'll have to wait a bit longer for the reappearance of the OCs, this chapter is for the boys (they have ish you know).

**3.**

Draco edged himself down and got comfortable in Harry's arms. They lay face to face, and for the first time in over four years he felt truly at home in his bed. With long elegant fingers he traced over Harry's features once again committing them to memory, and mapping the changes that signalled his lover had indeed left boyhood behind. With one last pass over Harry's lips, he spoke, "Talk to me Harry. Say what you were going to. Don't be afraid. We always said we could tell each other anything."

Anger flashed like lightening in viridian eyes. "Don't you dare say that to me," he hissed, "if it were really true you would've told me. You wouldn't have left me." He choked over the words, "You lied to me Dragon. You said you'd always be with me that you'd fight by my side and never leave me. You said you'd love me forever. And you lied. You snuck off like a thief in the night without a word like…like we were some dirty little secret you didn't want exposed to the daylight." Harry turned his face away as molten tears burned their way down his cheeks.

Draco cupped Harry's cheek and turned his face, his own eyes fierce, "I have **_never_** lied to you. I fought by your side Harry because I believed in you, and because I love you. I never thought we were dirty, or that we should've hid what we were to each other. I left _because _I love you and didn't want you to be hurt. They would have never accepted that their hero was in love with someone most of the world saw as his enemy. And I have never left you Harry. You carry **the _best_ _of me_** here," he laid his hand over Harry's heart. "I will love you forever. There has never been another. There will never _be_ another, because I belong only to you and I always have."

"Draco…I missed you so much. And seeing you--seeing you yesterday…it was like everything had changed, but nothing had changed at all."

He nodded, he understood…whether they were separated four minutes or four years, between them it was just _right_. He sighed, knowing he could never walk away from that again (figuratively speaking), now that it'd claimed him again. He knew there'd be no solace for either of them if they separated now. And he was willing…eager in fact, to make it known, to reclaim this part of his life--of their life. "I know, and now that we're here together Harry I have to tell you that we're not going to be parted **ever** again. I'm not running anymore. I missed you too."

Harry squeezed him tighter, "And I'm not letting you go. Not ever…It's going to be hard Draco." Harry sniffed, "You've built this whole new life and I-I…"

"You're wondering if we fit anymore."

"Yeah," he nodded warily.

"We'll always fit," Draco said with confidence. "So tell me what have you been doing?"

Draco smiled at his lover's bewildered look, "Well if we're going to work on the 'fit' thing I need to know about your life. You know all about me. My life is relatively simple. For the most part I live as a muggle, and I've been here getting my degree. I bought this house and made some changes, so I could live here without too much difficulty. I made a few, or 6, really wonderful friends who've become my family, and whom I desperately want you to meet.

I've dreamed about you every night, and thought about you every spare moment, and some not so spare moments when I've managed to nick myself in the kitchen or shaving or embarrassed myself in class because I was chasing my daydreams of you instead of paying attention. But I have no idea what you've been doing, so tell me about _your _life luv."

Glad to see he'd coaxed a small smile from Harry's lips, Draco poked his ribs gently and motioned for him to answer. Smile in place, Harry nodded, "Well…there was a lot to do after. Rebuilding and chasing down Death Eaters who'd escaped. I worked with the Order for two years. A few of us were tutored between missions and granted special dispensation by the Ministry to become Aurors without the full, official training. I kept busy and kept moving, and that was good, but…I-I couldn't keep it together. I worried about you so much…I missed you so much," he said softly, his voice thick with an unnamed emotion.

"For a long time we were sure you'd been taken by Death Eaters..a-and there was a mission where we'd captured a group of fugitives from Voldemort's Inner Circle. I was so sure they knew where you were. And so angry and lonely," he broke off and looked away.

As guilt and regret washed over him Draco closed his eyes, it was shame he'd heard in his lover's voice. He knew Harry's temper. Knew what he was capable of. What all humans are capable of really, and he knew at some point Harry had crossed a line that he felt marked him as a lesser man, as a man who embraced something evil, base, and perverse within himself instead of fighting it. Draco sighed and pulled Harry to face him again. "How many deaths am I responsible for Harry? How many did I drive you to kill? Or am I responsible for torture too?" He asked flatly.

Teary green eyes grew wide, "How did you--?"

"I _know _you Harry Potter. I know _every bit _of you. Now tell me."

Harry closed his eyes, "Four. I used the Cruciatus curse on four of them and one by one they died screaming and begging for mercy."

Disgust and self-loathing were an oily taint coating Harry's words and Draco desperately wished he could take it away and knew that he couldn't. He could however, share the burden. Acknowledge his own part in this and maybe together they could heal his lover's wounded soul. "Did you enjoy it?"

Harry reared back horrified, "No! How could you--"

"I didn't think it. I don't think it. I asked because I need you to understand some things."

Hesitantly Harry nodded.

"You tortured four people to death needlessly and it was _my _fault."

"No! I--"

"Shut it Harry! It was _my _fault. If I'd told you I'd gone then it wouldn't have happened. You may have done the ill deeds, but I was the cause. You are not an evil being because you acted under a wrong assumption."

"But I--"

"Shut it Harry!" Draco growled, "You are _not_ an evil being because you acted under a wrong assumption. I was the cause, and the responsibility for those deaths is mine as much, or more so than it is yours. What were you doing as they died?"

Harry's tears continued to fall, "Screaming back at them," he answered hoarsely. "I begged them to tell me where you were so I could lift the curse. But they wouldn't tell me. One kept yelling that they didn't know--that they hadn't taken you. I called him a liar, and hit him with the curse again. I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to cause them more pain, but they wouldn't tell me where you were, and-and I needed you so much and I remembered that they were high ranking Death Eaters and that they'd tortured more people than I probably knew in the whole world. I told myself they deserved it because they were evil people who tortured and maimed and killed innocents and they wouldn't tell me where you were. B-but it was a lie and I killed them for no good reason because they weren't lying, they didn't have you," Harry sobbed and Draco held him until the storm passed then kissed away his tears.

"You thought yourself a monster. And for a brief moment in time maybe you were, but whatever you were was _my _making Harry. It wasn't your fault really. In war and its aftermath sometimes good people do atrocious things. It doesn't make those things right, but you learn that in an extreme circumstance you're capable of something so out of character and wrong to you and it's frightening and you start to think what if that's who I really am? This monstrous evil creature capable of heinous acts? And it eats at you and pulls at you until you're not sure who you are anymore and you wonder if you ever knew who you were.

"It's a trick of the mind Harry, and it's a cruel thing to do to yourself. You did a horrible thing during a terrible time. It's not who you are, but knowing that you're capable of it makes you more human. Makes you know that even in yourself there is something to fight against and rise above. And every day you live as someone better than the monstrous evil creature you know you could give into, could become, you win."

Draco smiled at the look of near awe on his lover's face, "That's how I felt. Exactly how I felt and I couldn't get back Dragon," he looked away, "I'm still not back sometimes. But what you said helps. If I can make myself really believe it I think it'll help a lot. How did you know?"

It was Draco's turn to look away. "I said I'd mostly been here and I have, but that first year," he shuddered at the memory, "that first year I was a mess Harry. I'd just run. I had no idea how to live in the Muggle world. I had money but no legs…I went to Switzerland first and stayed in a private Wizarding hospital there for two months while they did what they could to heal my body. When I was as good as I was going to get I explained that I wanted to leave the Wizarding world and they transferred me to Liebchenhegen, a private Muggle long term care and rehabilitation clinic with the story that I'd been in a car wreck that left me paralysed and with a strange form of amnesia where I couldn't remember things about basic daily functioning.

I was tested, poked and prodded for month by about a dozen neurologists who were fascinated that I could speak fluent French, Italian and German, was capable of complex mathematics, but didn't know how to use a DVD player or what a microwave did. I had months of 'life skills' therapy to 'relearn' things about the world which was essentially a crash course in Muggle studies. I had gruelling physical therapy to relearn how to use my body in the ways that were available to me as a disabled person. And I did psychological therapy to help me deal with my trauma."

He sighed and scratched his hand through Harry's hair, "That was really hard. Even if I could have told my therapist everything, I had a hard time actually getting the words out. She suggested music therapy and got me to start composing and playing. I would write a piece and play it for her and we'd talk about why I'd written it and how it made me feel or what I was trying to express. It was really good for me and that's actually how I decided I wanted to go to school for musical composition. Later, when I was ready she helped me apply to schools and put together audition tapes and faked transcripts for me."

Harry looked up, "She faked school records?"

Draco nodded, "After we'd had a break-through, yes. I had told her as much truth as I could and fudged some parts, but one day she suddenly just stopped me and asked who I thought I was fooling. She told me if I wanted to heal then I was going to have to face the truth of what happened to me and what I'd done."

He laughed as he remembered, "She looked me straight in the eye and said 'Lucius Malfoy was a sadistic sycophantic bastard who maimed his own son for life. You killed him and you feel guilty because you think he deserved it. You feel guilty because as much as you think he deserved it and as much as you hate him for what he did and what he became he was your father and deep down you still loved him too. Admit it.'"

He smiled at his shocked lover, "Yeah I was gobsmacked, and wore that same expression for about 10 seconds then I broke down and sobbed for what seemed like hours. And she just held me and told me it was okay to let it all out. When it was over and my face was red and puffy and covered in snot, she handed me a wad of tissues and said, 'Anne Marie Romare. Liebchenhegen's resident psychologist and squib.' I just laughed…I'd spent weeks trying not to say too much or trying to figure out what I wanted to say and in three seconds she made it possible for me to just let go of all the pretence and really talk about what I needed to. She helped me face my greatest fear, well my greatest fear besides losing you, I was so scared that in taking all those lives in being glad they were dead that I'd become as cold-blooded as my father, that I'd become a monster just like him and given into the evil inside me.

She helped me see that wasn't true, that during the war I did terrible things, I killed and destroyed families and snuffed out lives like they meant nothing, but that those were terrible things I had done, they weren't who I was. You did some terrible things my love, it's not who you are."

"How long did you stay there?"

Draco thought back, "6 months. And when I was admitted to Claremont I came here to California and rented a flat in a complex designed for disabled people. It was sort a transition community where people like me could learn how to be independent outside of a clinic environment. I learned a lot there and healed a lot. I learned not to pity myself and that my life wasn't limited even though my body is."

Harry smiled and tucked a loose lock behind Draco's ear, "I'm proud of you Dragon. You didn't give up on yourself, and you found a way to make a life that's substantive and meaningful."

Draco smiled back, "Thank you. I've worked hard and it wasn't easy Harry." His smile faded as he set his face determinedly, "Now tell me the rest luv. What happened after the Death Eaters died?"

Harry pulled away a little, but Draco didn't let him get very far and he was surprised at the strength in his lover's arms. "I-I don't--"

"Tell me Potter. We're not going to keep anything between us. Not ever again. So spill."

Harry sighed and let his eyes drift closed, "I ran a bit mad after that. I had horrible nightmares where I relived it all again and again. Sometimes it was as it happened, sometimes I was watching as the Death Eaters tortured you, sometimes I was a Death Eater torturing you. It was pretty bad. I-I thought maybe I was going to end up at St. Mungo's for a while."

"Oh Harry," sadness clouded Draco's eyes and he held Harry tighter. "I'm so sorry luv."

"It's okay Dragon. After a couple of months it was obvious I wasn't getting any better, and I was in bad shape physically as well. Remus and Snape decided I needed to get away. They took me to this isolated little cottage Remus has; we stayed there for three months. I had long talks with them both, and I walked a lot, and did a lot of thinking. And finally came to some kind of…well, tentative peace, I guess you could call it.

When we came back I didn't want to continue as an Auror, but I still needed to stay busy. The Chudley Cannons needed a Seeker and I was available," he chuckled, "I think they would've taken me even if I was a horrible Quidditch player. And Ron, of course, was delighted."

Draco shook his head, "Of course he was. So you're a professional Quidditch player now? I'm impressed."

Harry smiled, "No, gave it up after the World Cup, so I really only played a season, but it was fun and it kept my mind occupied, and I made some new friends."

Draco cocked his head, "So what are you doing now?"

"Well…Slughorn returned to his retirement. Snape reclaimed the Potions position and that left--"

"You're the DADA professor at Hogwarts!"

Harry grinned, "No, guess again."

Draco gaped, "No? Why no?"

"Do you really think Remus would be parted from Severus now? Hogwarts already has a very good DADA teacher, though some parents raised a stink so he's still restricted from being Head of Gryffindor."

"So…"

"So…Hagrid married Madame Maxine last year Dragon."

Draco squirmed, "Ewwwwwwww! Bad, bad mental image. I hope to the gods they don't have children!"

Harry shot him a look, and Draco's jaw dropped, "Absolutely not!"

"She's due in another month or so. I know, I know. I really hope I'm not named godfather or something, because it'd be bad form to drop the baby during the Naming, and I doubt I could hold something that heavy for long."

Draco shuddered, "All I have to say is gods bless her, and I really hope you're not named godfather either. So you're Gryffindor's Head of House, and you've taken on Care of Magical Creatures."

"Yes. It's brilliant. I've turned Hagrid's hut into a sort of Creature Care Laboratory so students can have experience with long term projects, and it's good to be inside during the winter or on stormy days. I've set up enclosed environments for some of the smaller more domesticated creatures, but best of all there was room for me to set up an enclosure for my snakes!"

Draco rolled his eyes and said drolly, "I'm sure the students just love that."

Harry chuckled, "Yeah. About that--for a house whose mascot is a snake I've found that Slytherins are the most…reticent about being around my favourite pets."

"That's probably because your snakes are all highly poisonous dangerous creatures Potter and Slytherins have a strong self-preservation instinct."

Draco was glad to see his lover laughing so freely--he'd missed that. In those last days there'd been little to smile about, let alone laugh about, and it seemed like it had been an age since he'd last heard Harry so mirthful. In that moment, he was just glad and happy and didn't really think about it, he just leaned into Harry and said, "I love you," and brushed his lips across his lover's.

The contact shocked them both and he backed away quickly, "Oh gods. Harry, I-I'm sorry. It's too soon. Too much, too fast. I-I didn't mean…" panicked Draco back-pedalled desperately afraid he'd ruined things.

Harry grabbed his hands and kissed them, "Shh. Hush Dragon, it--it's alright. It was a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one." He smiled, "When you woke up and you kissed me--I know you thought were dreaming--but it made me feel so wanted, and loved. I-I haven't had that since…and well just now, you made me feel that way again. I don't think it's just us falling into old habits either. I think we're just meant to be together like this. It's just us making what we feel inside a physical thing too."

Slowly, so not to scare his love, and to be sure it was wanted, he leaned forward. His eyes slid shut as their lips touched. He kissed him gently, tenderly wanting nothing more than to ravish his mouth, but content to go slowly. He pulled back and smiled, "I love you too, you know."

Love and desire shone from grey eyes as Draco nodded, "I know. I've always known." The words were a little breathless, but sure, and suddenly all the hesitation faded away, desperate urgency springing up its place, pulsing between them and calling them into each other's arms.

Harry's hands roamed along Draco's back, re-exploring the territory he'd once known so well. Draco was still slender, but firm delineated muscle surrounded his form now, reminding Harry of his lover's increased strength, and that four years had passed since he'd last held him like this.

Harry kissed him again, knowing he could happily spend the rest of his life just kissing this man, his Dragon, whose lips were oh so supple, and warm, and soft and moist. But he had time. They were together now, and he was never letting go--he had a lifetime now to savour his lover's intoxicating mouth. So he let his mouth wander instead, trailing over the planes of Draco's face and down his long, slender neck.

His arms tightened around Draco's back and pulled their bodies completely together so that they touched everywhere, but it wasn't enough. He wanted needed more. "Dray--Dragon I- I need you. Now. Please.""Yes luv. Yes."Harry spelled their clothes away, and then they were happily gloriously naked and Draco's silken skin was sliding against his. He twisted slightly pulling his lover to lie beneath him.

"Dragon is this okay? I don't-I don't want to hurt you and I don't know how to-to…" Harry trailed off helplessly. His desire was rapidly mounting, but he couldn't hurt his lover, and he didn't know how well Draco could move.

Draco rubbed soothing circles on Harry's chest. He wanted him badly, but things _had _changed and they needed to be open about it, they needed to slow down. "Shhh. It's okay Harry. Just relax, we'll learn this together. I haven't done this since…well since before. We just need to keep talking. You tell me what works for you, and I'll tell you when something doesn't feel right for me. I can't feel my knees, or anything below, and my thighs aren't all that strong, so I think you'll have to prop my legs where we want them to be." Draco leered at his lover, "lucky for us there are plenty of pillows on this bed."

He laughed as Harry nearly lunged off the bed to gather the scattered pillows. They fumbled their way through positioning Draco's legs learning to be comfortable with their bodies and each other. When he was comfortable and his legs seemed to be positioned well for healthy circulation, they'd placed the pillows to support his legs and thighs in a way that they'd be fine for a while, he opened his arms to Harry and smiled, "C'mere and love me Potter."

Harry lay between Draco's legs and revelled in the feel of being in his lover's embrace again. At once it felt the same and different. He still felt that coming into Draco's arms was like perfect belonging. It was the same, in that there was no where in the world that was as safe or warm. In that way it was like going back through time, and reliving the first time they'd been together this way. Then, like now, the combination of nerves and anticipation twisted his stomach and made him shiver with need.

"I want you Dragon…so much..." He panted, "I've wanted little in my life as much as I want you right now."

Draco's smile was pure sin as he spread his thighs further to cradle Harry's body. He arched up to meet every touch, fleeting or firm, and was pillaged, or was ravished in every kiss. The room's quiet air was soon filled with the music of their joining--the moans and grunts of their pleasure, the sounds created from the two of them as they played each other's bodies in exquisite harmony, coming at last to a shattering crescendo that left them both breathless and satiated.

Harry spelled them clean and they settled finally, Draco gently pulled to lie comfortably on top of Harry. He cradled his lover's face while Harry's arms wound around him, grounding him in the reality of their love as much as anchoring him to his body.

There were a million things he wanted to say--to shout, he was so happy, but very little came out as he gazed down into his love's shining emerald eyes. "You make me whole," he whispered, and smiled gently at the man who meant everything.

He kissed away the tears gathering in the corner of Harry's eye and waited patiently for the words that were trying to make their way from his lover's mouth. Harry closed his eyes and his lips over the words that would not come then opened them to try again. "I-I can't live without you Dragon. I can't _be_." Harry rolled them to their sides "So…I guess the only question now is whether I'm moving here or whether you're coming back with me," he joked weakly trying to dispel the heavy weight and expectation that had settled over them.

Draco shook his head and Harry's heart plummeted. He slammed his eyes closed sealing his despair within and shutting out the painful rejection. Draco roughly jerked his head up. "Don't you dare shut me out Potter. Open your bloody eyes! Look at me!" He ordered.

Harry raised his tear-filled eyes to meet his lover's and was surprised to see only love and acceptance there.

"I didn't mean no, Harry. We _will_ be together. I promise. I just don't know where yet, or how. You have your life at Hogwarts, and you're happy there. I don't want to take that away from you. We have to talk this all out. I won't give up my music. We have to find a way to bring our lives, as they are now, together so we can both do what makes us happy. _Nothing_ I have or do will mean _anything _without you, but I know us both well enough to understand that we have to be doing something. Neither of us were meant to be men of leisure, and if we're not happy in what we do, no matter how much we love each other we're going to be miserable."

Harry nodded with relief and sound of Draco's determination wrapped around him, "So we're going to find a way to make this work."

"Yes. Of course. Absolutely. It's guaranteed. You bet your life," he said smiling dropping pecking kisses on Harry's lips as he answered. "Today we are going to talk, and catch up with our friends. Tomorrow, we'll go to Santa Inés Market so I can purchase an owl. Then, you are going to go home tomorrow night, and wake up the next day, and play with creepy creatures and little hellions." He sighed, "I am going to stay here, wake up the next day, and send my newly purchased owl off to Denver, home of the US Ministry of Magic, then go beg my advisor's forgiveness for passing out before my recital reception, then drag my well shagged arse to Dr. Hook's boring Advanced Music Theory class, bring myself home, and hopefully fire call you once I've been connected to the Floo network, and we'll talk some more. "

"Ahh…the Malfoy has spoken," Harry yawned and Draco actually giggled, "Okay so we'll talk after we--"

Draco's phone rang and he groaned. "Bugger me."

Harry grinned, "Already did." Draco smirked. "Don't answer it."

He shook his head and reached toward the end table, "Have to. There's so much going on right now that I need to check in with every one. Go to sleep. I'll make my calls and rouse you in a little bit."

Harry nodded already drifting off. "Don't leave the bed though. Nee-need you with me," he yawned.

Draco leaned over, kissed his cheek, then grabbed his phone and message pad. He almost chucked the phone across the room when he checked the Caller ID display. It was Johansen. He resentfully, hit the call back button, and waited.

"Dr. Emile Johansen."

"Hi, Dr. Johansen, it's Draco Malfoy, I just missed the phone and thought it best to ring you right back." Draco rolled his eyes_…Must make nice with the pompous but brilliant man who is holding my ability to graduate in his hands_.

"Ahh yes Draco. I'm glad you got back to me so quickly. Are you feeling better? I admit many students have an attack of nerves surrounding their senior recitals, but most happen beforehand. I've never had a student pass out after a good performance."

_Ugh-- pompous but brilliant man who is holding my ability to graduate in his hands is digging for information, _"Oh well. Yes I am feeling much better. I'd had a bit of a shock at the end of the recital and as you know passed out, but it's all been taken care of and I'm feeling much better today."

"Oh good good. You see one or two of my colleagues were very interested in meeting with you and graciously extended their stay when they learned you were ill. You're free this afternoon yes?"

_Translation: you'd better not say no if you know what's good for you. _"Actually Doctor, I had some friends fly in unexpectedly for the recital and I'll be spending the afternoon with them in town. Would your colleagues be interested in perhaps meeting here for lunch instead? I assure you my house is worthy of company, so you needn't worry about poor impressions."

Draco checked the time, _12:15-perfect_, "Professor. Can you be here--say…half one? I'll set out a late lunch--sandwiches or something and we can talk. Could you rally your friends and make it this way by then."

The older man cleared his throat, still wary. He was well acquainted with off-campus housing, and rumour had it that Malfoy lived with several people. Still, he had said his home was presentable, and he'd found him to be a very honest young man…"That's fine Draco. We'll be there at 1:30. I don't have my school directory in front of me so tell me your address."

Draco heaved an internal sigh of relief, "16 Harmony Court. It's in Old Towne. You should be able to find it easily. If you come in on Schubert you'll run perpendicular to Melody Drive where the Dean's house is. Harmony is two blocks over. Mine is a yellow and white rancher, 4 houses in from the corner, and you can park on the drive or on the street, whichever you prefer."

"Ah-ah well…well then," the flustered man stammered, and tried to regain his footing. He _really _hadn't expected to find students living in that part of town. "Very good. 16 Harmony Court, 4 houses in from Schubert."

"Thank you sir, for being so accommodating."

"You're quite welcome Draco, think nothing of it. We'll see you at 1:30 Draco. Good-bye"

"Good-bye." _You pompous, meddlesome, insufferable, old git!_

Tbc….


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **No, not mine; unless they are, in which case I claim them.

**A/N:** Yes, slash; yes, unbeta'd; yes, please review; yes, you have my thanks. This chapter is for Shell, thanks for fuelling my latest writing mood with your reviews!

**4.**

It was 12:20 and Draco sighed, he could think of much, _much_ better uses of the hours they had until they needed to meet the Hogwarts crowd at The Tattered Cover. But if Johansen had arranged for his 'colleagues' to stay and extra day it must really be important. Harry was out soundly, and after years of living with Seamus and Ron's infamous snoring, he could sleep through just about anything when he was feeling safe and secure. Draco leaned down and kissed his lover's brow then reached for his bars. He'd noticed that even with all the rolling and turning Harry had made sure Draco ended up on the side with his chair and with that realisation the blond fell that much more deeply in love with the raven haired beauty in his bed.

He got situated in his chair and made a quick circuit around the bed picking up their discarded clothes. He made a mad dash to the laundry and dropped in their clothes, then sped back to his bedroom. He was nearly there when he remembered he was supposed to organise lunch so he retreated to the kitchen and pulled the delivery menus from the drawer near the kitchen phone.

He placed an order with Egret Sandwich Shoppe and Catering, a snooty upscale deli that delivered. He'd seen their delivery van at several of the houses in his neighbourhood before parties and knew from luncheons the Conservatory had catered, their sandwich spreads were actually very good. It'd be enough to impress Johansen and whoever he was bringing, and save himself the time and trouble of pulling together something from the kitchen. Satisfied, he wheeled into his bedroom and scooted over to his closet, he pulled dressy casual clothes, grabbed underwear and a pair of shoes, set everything out, then slid into the bathroom for a quick shower.

By one he was out of the shower and dressing. Quarter past he was directing the delivery guy to set up in their formal dining room, which, more often than not, ended up being a group study table. He rolled back to the bedroom and failed to rouse Harry, so he left a note on the bedside table wrapped around the earpieces of the infamous glasses. He grabbed his portfolio, a notebook, his pen case and reading glasses, slid them into his chair's pocket and rushed into the foyer to pay the delivery guy and shoo him away. He was two minutes into his 5 minute wait when he realised his hair was loose and a mess around his face so he turned threw himself through his bedroom to grab the silver and turquoise barrette Callie had given him for Christmas off the vanity. Bemoaning his decision to cut his hair into layers of varying lengths that framed his face and softened the severity of uniformly long hair, he was ruthlessly yanking it all back into a ponytail when he heard the front bell. Cursing perfectly punctual professors, he snapped the barrette closed, shut his bedroom door carefully so not to wake Harry, and sped into the foyer. He reached the door a bit winded and threw it open just as Johansen was reaching for a second round with the bell.

Poised, controlled, and respectfully aloof, Draco brought the Malfoy training to the fore and waved the three men inside. "Dr. Johansen, welcome to my home. I trust you found it easily enough?" Deploy aristocratic drawl to up the squirm factor--check. He was keenly aware of the scrutiny he and his home were subject to at that moment. And his inner snob cheered at Johansen's poorly veiled disbelief at the admittedly impressive and expensive décor. "If you'll follow me please," he directed after giving his advisor a chance to stare without appearing boorish. None of the three were wearing overcoats so Draco led them past the coat closet without saying anything.

The hardwood hallway actually bisected the 'great room,' which was a living room on the left and a media entertainment space on the right. Just after the living room was the dining room, which had a sliding door. He pulled the door open, waved them inside then shut the door behind them. At Johansen's questioning look he explained, "I share this house with 6 other people who sometimes use this room as a study or work space. If the door is closed however, they know it's in use and won't disturb the occupants."

The tall salt and pepper haired man with Johansen looked impressed. "That's quite a lot of people for one house. Especially with a musician in the mix. You all must be very organised and dedicated students."

Draco smiled, "Please have a seat and help yourselves," he said waving them toward the four place settings across from each other in the middle table, sandwiches and salads were set to each side. "We are," he said finally responding to the compliment. "In fact, you probably met all of my housemates yesterday at the recital reception. Three were in the quartet, another performed my aria and the other two were in attendance to support me and their partners."

The man's brows rose nearly to his hairline. "3 musicians, a vocalist, and a composer all under one roof! That is some feat. I'm surprised you all haven't killed each other yet."

Draco smiled slightly, "It's four musicians, a vocalist, a composer, and a music education major actually. We're all students of the Conservatory and we've survived nearly three years in each other's company. The odds are good we'll make it to graduation. We are all very conscientious about respecting each other's space. It helps too that our practice rooms are soundproofed as are our bedrooms, so rarely do we disturb each other too badly."

Johansen balked, "You have practice rooms?"

Draco nodded curtly, he was getting annoyed. Johansen hadn't made introductions. He hated small talk. He wasn't in any mood to be feeding the school gossip mill about his house, nor did he want to give a tour of his home, "Yes. The garage was renovated and is actually three practice rooms. It's especially convenient for me as not all of the entrances to the Conservatory are ADA compliant, especially the late night entrances so I prefer to practice at home. And of course, if any of us are working on joint projects or collaborations it's nice to be able to do so at any time."

Since he had to play up to Johansen anyway he might as well get in his little dig about his constant complaint to the Conservatory Administration. He noticed with some satisfaction that the men accompanying his advisor looked rather displeased with that revelation and that Johansen himself was now nervously picking at his turkey sandwich.

Draco cleared his throat, "I'm sorry I didn't catch your names gentlemen. I'm constantly running melodies through my head and I am sometimes distracted at inopportune moments," he added a little self-depreciating chuckle but was well aware that he had subtly and politely called attention to his advisor's gaff without putting the man on the spot.

"Oh. Oh well, we all know how it is when you're working on a new project, but since we'd lost your attention Draco, this is Peter Brandeis with the Boston Symphony," Johansen gestured to the salt and peppered haired man at his left. "And to your right is Ashley Caruthers with the London Symphony. Both are old acquaintances of mine and they'd expressed an interest in attending your recital following the glowing profile and review you received in the 'People to Watch' issue of Music Today. We were all very impressed with the quality and originality of your recital pieces Draco."

He nodded and was sure to make eye contact with each man, "Thank you. I worked very hard on those pieces, and I'm glad to learn they were well received."

"Yes, well," Caruthers who'd been silent to this point slipped in, "To be frank we are each interested in making you career offers following graduation Mr. Malfoy. It is evident that you are supremely talented. I, for one, and I'm sure Peter as well, would like to take a look at your portfolio and continue to be in contact with you."

Draco reached behind his chair to pull the thick leather binder and two CDs. "You're more than welcome to examine my portfolio and you may take the CDs as well. There are twelve tracks. 10 are original compositions, 2 are adaptations. I'm afraid none are the pieces you enjoyed yesterday. But if you wish, that recording will be available in another week or so, and I can send you copies then."

Caruthers smiled, "Yes I'd noticed the young woman at the sound board. I'm glad you had the foresight to have your recital recorded. Not enough students exercise that option and lose out on a valuable feedback tool."

He merely nodded and pushed back from the table. "I'll leave the portfolio with you to look over briefly. If you'll excuse me for a moment, there's something I must attend to."

The three men at the table nodded. Johansen and Brandeis rising to join Caruthers in examining the collection Draco decided best represented his range of compositions as he slid open the door and wheeled to the laundry. It was already half two. He had no idea where the time had gone. Luckily Harry's clothes would be dry in about half an hour if he put them in the dryer alone. He picked out his clothes and left them on the drying rack next to the sink, tossed Harry's clothes in the dryer, and headed for his bedroom.

He pushed open his door and smiled. Harry was so beautiful when he slept, even if he was sprawled across the bed, his hair a riot and…yes…he was drooling. Draco laughed at himself for being such a sap and went for the one sure fire way to wake Harry Potter.

He grabbed Harry's right foot and went to work.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! Stop that s-s-stop it! Stop not funny-ha-haah…stop! Draaaaaaaaeee!" After a series of impossibly adorable chortles, whimpers and giggles, Harry managed to yank his foot away from his tormentor, sat up, and glared. "I am now awake. What do you want you cruel, cruel man."

Draco laughed, "We've got an hour 'til we're supposed to be at the Tattered Cover. You need to take a shower, and snag your clothes from the dryer. Schise! I'm an idiot; you could've just used a drying charm. Well never mind, they're in the dryer so you can grab them do the drying charm if they're still damp and spell out the wrinkles. If I'm not back here by 10 after I need you to come rescue me from the dining room. It's the room right next to the living room where you were all sitting this morning." Draco took a deep breath, "Have everything?"

"Shower, clothes from dryer, needed charms, come to your rescue."

Draco grinned, "Great that's everything. I need to get back. I love you Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and smiled at Draco's declaration, "I will never tire of hearing it. I missed the way it sounds from you mouth."

Draco decided that pompous professors could wait, and tugged Harry down for a scorching kiss. When they broke apart for air, Harry rested his forehead against his lover's, "I love you too Dragon. Now go so we can get out of here."

Harry waved him away and he rushed back down the hall to the dining room and slid the door open. "Sorry for the delay gentlemen."

Draco spent the next half hour asking and answering questions and generally working the Malfoy charm. He was about to despair ever leaving the purgatory his dining room had become when there was a soft but firm knock at the door. Conversation ended as Draco called Harry in, and he really did try to keep his eyes in his head and his jaw off the floor. Really. He just wasn't sure he was successful at the attempt. Harry after all was a walking wet dream in well tailored black pants, and a rust dyed chamois button-down that hugged his frame and made his bright green eyes pop from behind his sleek wire rimmed glasses. Suddenly it all became clear to Draco…was it any wonder he'd passed out this morning, obviously his subconscious had registered the presence of his own personal sex god and love toy. Well…perhaps that assumption was a bit much, but it certainly was a possibility.

"I'm sorry for the interruption gentleman, but Draco and I need to meet with the rest of our friends at half three. We haven't seen him in a while and we only came in to catch his recital and we'll be leaving tomorrow so we'd like to spend a bit of time with him before we return home."

Caruthers grinned, "Ah…Mr.-- "

"Potter."

"Mr. Potter. We certainly don't want to keep you. I'm flying back to London tonight myself so I know what a tiring journey it can be. Did all of your friends come in from London?"

Draco interrupted, "No actually. A few friends came in from Salem as well," he lied smoothly. He didn't want Caruthers thinking he had some sort of advantage. It was better to let them think he had personal connections to Massachusetts and England. If he was going to be courted, he wanted to be wooed properly by his prospective employers.

"Um--Harry thank you for the reminder. I'll be right out. If you would snatch the keys from the pegboard in the kitchen I'll meet you on the patio in a minute." Ahhh….the ever dependable golden Gryffindor. Harry disappeared, presumably to the kitchen, and Draco made the obligatory noises about being in touch, thanked them all for visiting, assured Johansen they'd meet on Monday, then all but pushed them out the door. He left a note on the message and mail centre--a hanging teak framed chalkboard with wooden slots to each side about the sandwiches in the dining room, pulled his keys from Harry's outstretched hand, locked the door and headed down the ramp. He wheeled over to the passenger seat and looked expectantly at Harry.

"Tell me that you do know how to drive Potter."

Harry smirked, "Had you for a minute there didn't I? Yes, I know how to drive. Except for that unfortunate Whomping Willow incident 2nd year, I am an excellent driver."

Draco groaned, "You just had to go and remind me of that didn't you."

"Yes I did. Now-what do I need to do?"

"It's pretty simple really, you pull out that little platform there and I scoot on. It raises me up to the seat. I get into the seat and strap in, you push the platform back into the slot fold up my chair and stick it in the back."

It was simple and quick, and in only a couple of minutes until they were on their way downtown.

"Dragon, you can drive, yes?"

Draco nodded.

"So why don't you?"

"Mostly because of my housemates I guess. We all share the Expedition. If I drove it'd have to be a specially modified vehicle, and it'd be a pain for an able bodied driver to switch over all the time. There's really no where I need to go that I can't get to by bus if I want to go alone. And for when I don't want to go somewhere alone someone in the house has always been willing to drive me. Even if they're just using it as a way to escape revising for a little while."

"Mmm. That makes sense." Harry flicked a cautious glance over at his lover, "So…are you just playing hard to get and being a master Slytherin negotiator, or are you really interested in moving to Boston."

Draco smiled, "Getting right to the point aren't we?"

"Dragon…"

Hearing the warning in his lover's voice Draco's smile grew, "Is there really any question luv? I don't care where I am as long as I can make music. If London wants me, London gets me. I just don't want them to think I'm easy. Turn left up there, and then right at the light, and we'll be there."

"Alright. So…"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I don't want anyone to get their hopes up if this falls through. That includes you Harry. They might change their minds. They might decide they don't want to wait 2 months to fill the position. They might decide they want someone with a graduate degree. Nothing is set in stone, and so much can change in an instant. When I have a signed contract, then we can tell everyone. But not until then."

Harry's face fell, "You're not--"

"As Bree likes to say, 'don't go there.' I am not having second thoughts about us. If there's one sure thing in my life it's that I love you, and want more than anything for us to be together. We'll make it happen Harry, I promise. But we need to be patient.

I won't be able to move anywhere until at least the end of June anyway. After graduation I'll need to pack up the house and put it on the market, or work something out with a property management company to let it out. That's going to take a bit of time. But by then I'll have a job at least, and we'll know where we're going to be."

"The end of June?"

"The end of June luv, I promise. Now park over there"

"Bossy git."

"Useless prat."

"Stuff it Malfoy"

"Make me Potter."

"Alright." With a devilish grin Harry kissed him hard, effectively ending their banter, and cut the engine. When he finally broke away to draw a deep breath, he smiled, "I love you Draco."

"I know Harry, and feel free to shut me up that way whenever you want," Draco added with a little goofy grin, one he'd picked up from Harry, of course. "Now go get my chair and let's get in there before Hermione either buys out the store, or Severus lashes someone to death with his tongue."

Before they knew it they were inside and swapping stories of all they'd lived through in the time they'd been apart. Laughter often rang out in the corner they'd claimed for themselves, but there were also moments of contemplative silence, and moments heavy with the sadness of loss.

Draco had missed this. He'd healed a great deal and faced his daemons, but he'd never had the chance to grieve or to celebrate their survival with others who'd lived through it. The war had changed them all greatly, and really no one could understand but other survivors.

In cutting himself off from the Wizarding world, he'd lost so much more than the love of his life, he'd abandoned the network of support that bolstered him through the war, and took his own strength from them. It was a humbling realisation and an important one.

They _had _missed him, _had _needed him and it was good to know he was needed, as much as he regretted not being there. It was one more sin for which there was no penance. Just another truth he'd have to learn to live with, just as he'd have to learn to live with knowing that his own misguided attempts to protect his lover led to a killing rage in the most honourable and giving man he'd ever known.

Time flew and 3 hours passed in the blink of an eye. Draco was loathe to give up the company of his friends, but knew it was important that the two halves of his life meet. Slowly they made their way out. Draco gave Hermione direction's to Eva's, the Cuban restaurant where they'd made reservations for dinner, the wheeled himself to the Expedition beside Harry.

"It's odd walking next to you and not feeling you standing at my shoulder," he said quietly as they made their way through the large parking lot.

Draco nodded, "I guess it would be. Does it bother you?"

Harry thought a moment, "Not really, it's just different. It's something to adjust to--like remembering to pitch my voice so you can hear me down there, or remembering to focus my hearing in a different direction. Little things that remind me of how many big changes there have been."

They got to the Expedition and Harry pulled out the lift. He stowed Draco's chair and hopped into the driver's seat. Before he could turn the key Draco took his hand.

"Harry," Draco looked down at their entwined hands and spoke softly. "Today was wonderful. Being with you that way was so…beautiful, and—and…affirming. But…but things are sometimes different when you look at them in the hard light of day and not in the warm afterglow cast by making love. I…I would understand if you felt this was too much to deal with. I don't want you to stay with me, or want me, out of pity. If this is going to be too hard…if you think there are too many changes to handle…I--we…never talked about marriage or bonding.

I have…no--no true claim on you. And I would never want…I don't want you to feel trapped Harry--or…or burdened by me. I-I love you enough to let you go, if that's what's best for you." He forced out the last bit, released Harry's hand, and huddled in on himself. So many things had been said that day and promises renewed, but if Harry was having doubts it would be better to end it before they really began again. It hurt so much and it made him angry, of all people, he thought Harry would see _him_ not his chair.

Draco was so caught in a cycle of self-recrimination and heartache he didn't notice Harry'd left the Expedition. He didn't notice his door opening. He did however notice when he heard a lever click and his seat suddenly whooshed into the full recline position. And he most definitely noticed when Harry clambered on top of him. He looked up into angry green eyes and swallowed hard.

"Don't even think about speaking Draco. I am so angry with you right now I could spit. I can't believe you'd think that of me. I asked before because it's important. Because your paralysis is just something else we have to deal with, just another aspect of you and the changes you've been through. We need to be able to talk about it like it's an ordinary thing and not some…some erumpent in the living room that we're trying to ignore.

"I wasn't trying to be insensitive, or negative, or distant from you. I made a comment about something that is. I mentioned out loud that things have changed. That's all." He stared at his lover hard. "You have to believe that I see _you_, that I am with _you_, that _I love you_. The chair isn't all of who you are, but it's a part of who you are now. I won't ignore it. I won't let you handle everything on your own because you want to spare me, or some such rot. Don't doubt me Dragon.

There are a lot of things I need to heal in myself, and there are things that need to heal in you, and things we need to heal together, and there are some things we just have to accept. You have to accept that I love you, and I will never leave you; that I see you, and respect you. That crap just now tells me that somewhere in you there's a part that's convinced that you're less worthy because of the paralysis, and that part is just waiting for me to realise it and have the world come crashing down on you. You need to exorcise that part because it's _never going to happen_. Never Dragon. Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded; his eyes itched with the tears he held back. There _was_ a part of him that was still insecure about his paralysis. He was pretty well adjusted, but there were niggling doubts that made it hard sometimes. He'd given into that while Harry was making ordinary conversation. He realised that he _didn't _let people talk about his paralysis or his chair…he'd explain the mechanics of things, but no one really talked about things once that initial conversation was over. It was something that was there but not there, and definitely not talked about. It _was_ the erumpent in the living room, and just as capable of being explosive, and he hadn't realised he'd been doing it until now.

With Harry above him he couldn't move much so he just ran his hands up and down his flanks, "Thank you. I didn't get it before but I understand now."

Harry nodded, "Good, because nothing is going to come between us ever again Drae. And we are going to talk about _everything_ with each other." He lowered himself further and pecked pale pink lips, but the teasing touch was more temptation than he could resist, and again he bent his head to sample the pleasures his love's mouth offered. He plundered Draco's mouth, forcing the blond to open further and take Harry deeper into himself. He swept his tongue all within that sweet cavern licking against Draco's palate, rubbing against the inside of his cheek, and curling round his wicked tongue. Draco writhed beneath him and made the slight mewl deep in his throat that always zinged Harry straight in the groin, and was guaranteed to make him hard…or, well…harder.

Gasping for breath Draco ripped his head away, turning his face to the side. "Har-harry stop. We need to get to Eva's," he panted, and whimpered as Harry nibbled down the long column of his neck. "Mmm…Harry please. I want you to meet every-unngh-one. Geroff." He pushed weakly at his lover who swept his tongue up Draco's throat one last time and placed a playful smacking kiss on his cheek.

"Okay, but only because Snape will kill me if we don't show up." He slid out of the Expedition and tugged his clothes into place as Draco reset the seat.

"That too. Now c'mon there are people I want you to meet."

Harry smirked and waggled his eyebrows before he shut the door. He found Draco was still laughing when he got back into the driver's seat. "You're mad Potter."

Harry smiled, "About you? Yes. Now how do we get to Eva's?"

Tbc….


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Do I really need to say it again? I know you know that I know, shouldn't that be enough?

**A/N:** It's been said before, but in case you missed it: yes, this is slash; yes, it is unbeta'd; yes, I desperately want reviews, so please do; and yes, you have my thanks for reading my little story and for leaving reviews on the last chapter, I do so appreciate them. I'm not too sure about this chapter, I was surprised at the direction it took, I like knowing how Draco has impacted his friends' lives though, so I'm glad it took the turns it did. Oh, and there's pointless smutty stuff at the end. I am resolved to becoming a better smut writer, unfortunately that means you must suffer through my practice runs and early attempts!

**5.**

They were late. Snape was snarling, Remus was trying to get him to behave and failing. Cele wasn't about to be intimidated, so she was snapping back; Callie was shooting sympathetic looks at Remus while attempting to calm her girlfriend. Ron was laughing it up with Bree. Paul and Jonathan were making goo-goo eyes which was nothing new, but somewhat annoying, and they were playing it up since their game of kissy-face seemed to bait Snape. Pansy was deep in conversation with Michael about something. All in all things were going well Draco thought as they arrived at the table.

"You're late. Are you alright? Where were you?" Hermione launched before any of the others could get in their hellos.

Callie took a quick look at Draco and rolled her eyes--someone had a serious case of mother-hen-itis, with a bit of nosy goose besides. "Never mind guys it doesn't matter. We don't really want to know." She cast a hard look around the table daring anyone to challenge her, it landed firmly on Hermione with a clear warning.

Affronted, Hermione was about to say something, but she noticed Callie was again looking over the late arrivals. It was then she noticed the kiss swollen lips, the slightly rumpled clothes, and the bright passion mark on Draco's neck that couldn't be anything but fresh. She decided discretion was perhaps the best course of action after all, and sent a sheepish apologetic look to Callie across the table.

Callie nodded, then shifted her attention to pat the chair beside her. "C'mere and siddown Harry," she drawled, "I need blackmail material and you have Draco stories."

Draco stuck out his tongue at them as he locked his chair in place at the head of the table. "So have you ordered?"

Bree swallowed and set down her water glass, "Just mojitos for everyone and appetizers. We wanted to wait the dinner order on you two, but it's good you're here 'cause damn I'm hungry!"

Cele laughed, "A hungry Bree is to be avoided at all costs. Things get ugly when she's hungry."

Draco nodded chuckling, "It's true! She's nearly as bad as Harry and Ron. I have to apologise though, the worst is 'morning Bree' which you were all subjected to this morning. I didn't hear the door, or I would have spared you."

Remus goggled, "That was you this morning?"

Bree blushed, and like the Weasleys it clashed horribly with her hair, "Umm-yeah I'm pretty bad in the morning. Pretty much everybody knows not to bug me before 10. My bedroom is closest to the door though so sometimes…well I know I'm about as friendly as a hissing cat when I'm up before 9, and Draco is the fucking super-early bird. I don't know how we've managed all these years."

"Simple," Michael jumped in, "We keep Draco and his way too efficient morning self under wraps until you've had at least 2 cups of coffee."

Jonathan giggled, "It's 3 cups of coffee Mike. She's worth shit until she's got enough caffeine to power a small city pumping."

"Okay, okay-enough picking on the non-morning person," Bree groused with a smile, "What we need to do is to pick on our super organised anal-retentive person. You all know Draco from school right? And you were his teachers?" She directed her comments to Snape and Lupin.

Snape frowned, "I am his godfather actually, if you must know, but yes we were both his teachers."

Bree sat back dramatically, "Oooooooooooookay not meddling with the man in black with the icy death rays. Mr. Freeze has nothing on you-whoa!"

Draco bit back a chuckle and waved away the questioning looks he received from some of his guests, "I'll explain later." He looked to his housemate, "Severus doesn't know much about Batman, Bree, so you'll have to forgive that he didn't get the reference."

"I may not be familiar with the reference, but I am well aware of an ins-"

Remus clamped a hand over his lover's mouth, "So…Bree, right? Is there anything in particular you wanted to know about Draco?"

Blue eyes lit up. "Yeah. Tell us about Mojo's--"

Draco was relieved that their waitress came to take their orders then. There was some shuffling and delays, as his Muggle friends tried to explain the different foods. They convinced Pansy, Lupin, Snape, and Harry to be a little daring and placed orders for Ropa Vieja, Congri and Tostones Rellenos, Lechon Asado, Langosta al Ajillo and Masitas de Puerco.

Ron wasn't convinced and ordered a simple dish of Spanish sausage with saffron rice, while Hermione decided to have grilled garlic chicken with plantains, rice and black beans. They'd just ordered another round of mojitos when Pansy asked Bree why she was only having water.

The housemates went silent, and Draco cursed Pansy's big mouth. Bree flushed, and picked at her plate of Sabor Havanero. She took a shaky breath, and smiled fondly, if sadly, at Draco, "I am an alcoholic. So I uh-don't drink anymore."

Pansy paled. "Oh. Oh sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to upset you!"

Bree shrugged, "It's okay, you didn't know. It's not like you were out to be mean about it. And I'm getting better about admitting it in public. Besides, I've been sober for almost two years now."

Draco leaned over and took her hand. "And we're all very proud of you," he said gently, without condescension.

Bree smiled at her family, and nodded, "I know." She looked around the table at Draco's guests and realised they were his family too. So they were her family now, and she could tell them the truth. "I might as well tell you the whole thing because I'd rather you know the truth than start wondering about me and making assumptions."

She felt encouraged as Ron nodded at her. "I started drinking when I was 8. My father was an alcoholic and my mother was too, and at first I just followed their example. But by the time I got to high school I knew I was a mess and that it was really the booze that was bringing me down. My viola teacher caught me drinking before a lesson once and told my parents. They were pissed, but didn't do much. I toned it down a lot, anyway though. Then I came to Claremont and met Mojo in the freshman Strings workshop, and we became friends. I was-ashamed, I guess, so I hid it from him and everyone else, and then we found the house and started living together, and even though the hiding was easier and harder at the same time, I got back into the habit of drinking really heavily."

"What got you to stop?" Ron asked kindly.

Bree cocked her head and smiled at his genuine interest, and the honest concern she sensed from him, "I nearly died."

She frowned at the gasps from Pansy and Hermione, and shrugged again, "I'd had a really bad week. I'd been passed over for first chair for the orchestra that semester. And I should have been, I was playing poorly, but I didn't see that then. And I found out my dad had been driving drunk and died in a car crash that killed a little boy. I was feeling overwhelmed and depressed, and I thought the alcohol would make it better, so I drank all day. I drank so much I have no idea what I was drinking, or how much. I'm sure it was pretty bad."

She looked off into the middle distance remembering, "Mojo came home and I guess I was alone in the house. I don't usually keep my bedroom door closed so he came by to check on me and say hello. He found me passed out in a pool of vomit instead. I wasn't breathing. From what they said at the hospital Mojo must have thrown himself out of his chair, cleared my mouth, and performed rescue breathing. He didn't stop until I started breathing on my own again, and then he called for an ambulance."

She nodded at the solemn faces around the table. "When I woke up he was right there looking a mess. His hair was shorter then, so it was limp and hanging over his eyes which were all bloodshot, and his face was splotchy, and his clothes were a mess. I didn't realise what happened, but I thought he looked like I felt so I asked him if he was hung-over too." Bree chuckled, "That was the _wrong_ thing to say. Really wrong. The next thing I know he's screaming at me, and crying, and calling me all sorts of names, and then he said the strangest thing I have ever heard. 'If you ever do such a supremely stupid and inane thing ever again I will hex you until you wish you were sober enough to beg me to stop.' Which is why I call him my Mojo Man or Mojo for short."

"Mojo?" Ron was confused

Remus chuckled, "It means Magic." He winked at Draco who blushed.

Bree grinned, "Yeah, he's magic alright." She turned back to her story, "Anyway…I had a pretty severe case of alcohol poisoning and I'd been out for 3 days which is why Mojo looked so bad. He'd stayed with me pretty much the whole time. And for the first time I learned what it meant to have a real friend. I actually learned I have 6 best friends 'coz when everyone else heard what happened the whole house came to visit me. Which was really nice, except Cele yelled at me even more than Mojo, and she's louder too." She smiled as they laughed, and winked at her friend.

"When I was well enough to leave the hospital, I packed up all the stuff people had brought for me and told myself I was going to stop drinking. Mojo was there when I was signing the discharge papers and I promised him that I'd never drink again. And he just looked at me."

Bree wiped away a tear, "some people can see right into you. Mojo's like that. He just stared at me with those freaky silver eyes, and told me I was lying. I was so shocked and hurt I almost stormed out of there, but he grabbed my hand and said it wasn't my fault I was lying, but that addiction was a disease, just deciding I was cured wasn't really going to fix me. He didn't let go of my hand, he just pulled me along as he wheeled out of the hospital. And once we were outside he asked me if I was serious about wanting to keep my promise. I said yeah, and he pointed to these two nurses waiting beside a van. Mojo said if I was serious to go with the nurses. That he'd see me in a month, and that as soon as I was allowed phone calls, he'd call every day."

"He arranged for you to go to a rehabilitation centre," Hermione nodded.

Bree smiled, "Yeah. He arranged the rehab, made sure that the school put me on medical leave without leaking the story to every gossip on campus, and after the first week which was pure hell by the way, he called me twice every single day." She grinned broadly at her friend, "So I came home a month later, and I've kept my promise ever since. Mojo's my very own hero."

Ron was solemn, "He's a hero to a lot of people, even if he doesn't think so."

Draco turned away, "That's not true Weasley."

"It _is_ true! You never even let me say thank you!" Ron shouted, overcome by the unspoken. He'd waited so long for this chance.

Draco glared into the silence that fell over the table. "Shut it, Ron. Now, is _not _the time," he snarled.

"If it was left up to you the right time would never come! I don't understand why you won't just let me say--"

Cele put her hands up, "Okay, this is getting a little heavy. And some of us have no idea what's going on. So Ron, before you say anything else, why don't you tell us what this is about, and then we'll twist Draco's arm to get him to listen to the rest of what you want to say."

Ron dashed away angry tears as Hermione gently squeezed his free hand, "Draco saved my life. He doesn't want to admit it. I bet he never talks about it, but the uh--car that hit him was going to hit me, he pushed me out of the way and got blasted instead."

The housemates looked at each other in shock. Draco never talked about how he'd come to be paralysed. He'd brush off every inquiry with a curt "car accident" and didn't say anything else about it. It seemed everyone was learning something new about their friend tonight.

When the food arrived the tension was so thick even a slashing spell would've had no effect. Draco was scowling and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He'd pulled his hand away from Harry, and was generally looking miserable. Callie sighed, for now Draco was right, now was not the time. He and Ron obviously needed to talk, but there'd been enough emotional bloodletting for one evening. She cleared her throat.

"Ron, Draco will call you next week and you can talk then, okay? I think for tonight we're all pretty wrung out, and this should really be a private thing between the two of you." She waited for the redhead to nod, then turned to her friend, "And you _will _call him Draco, or I will sic Cele on you, and then tell everyone about the banana pudding incident."

He gaped at her evil smirk, "You wouldn't!"

Her dark eyes twinkled as her smug grin grew, "I would. So you're going to call Ron next week right?"

Draco shook his head and sighed, Callie was evil, he decided. "Yes. Ron, I'll…speak to you next week about this."

"Good, now that that's settled, let's eat!" Callie raised her fork in salute to the table.

Harry took back Draco's hand, leaned over and nuzzled his ear with his lips, "She's right you know. He's needed to talk this out with you. It's been eating him up that he couldn't." He felt more than heard Draco's sigh, and brushed his lips over the delicate shell of his ear, "I know it's hard Dragon, but I'm here for you. I love you." He felt Draco choke on a sob and pulled back, knowing he'd be embarrassed by an emotional display in such a public place.

The rest of the meal passed slowly, but well. It took a while to bring back the easy atmosphere of before, but they managed admirably and all were pleased by the camaraderie that seemed to grow between them.

The housemates headed home in the Expedition while a grumbling Harry was pushed into the rental. As Jonathan pulled into traffic Draco heard Cele take a deep breath, and raised his hand forestalling any talk. "Do not ask about Ron. I am not going to talk about it."

"Good--because what we really want to know is what's the story with Har-ry?" Cele shot back smiling at the chorus of chuckles and giggles.

Draco rolled his eyes. He should have known this was coming. "Harry," he sighed, "Harry and I--"

"We've all seen the marks Dray, and you might as well be wearing a sign that says 'I have been well fucked today.'"

Draco snorted, "And you would know wouldn't you Paul seeing as that sign has become a permanent accessory of yours."

Jonathan chuckled, "If you've got it, flaunt it. Now what about Harry? How long have you been carrying a torch for this guy, Draco?"

"We want the whole story from the beginning Mojo!"

"From the beginning? Alright." He closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat. "We've known each other since we were 11. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and I all went to the same boarding school. We hated each other at first." Draco smiled, "Well, he hated me. I was just jealous of him and acted like a prat. I teased his friends. I used to say all sorts of cruel things to Ron and Hermione, and then I grew up.

"I figured out I had a crush on him when we were about 14, but I still acted like a royal arse. I--uh--got in with a bad crowd when I was 16, and did some pretty horrible things. I—uh--ended up running away from school and did some more horrible things, then I wised up. My godfather, Severus, helped me break away from the people I'd fallen in with, and that summer I stayed at Harry's house, and we finally became friends, and we fell in love. The--ac-accident happened about a year and half later. I knew I couldn't stay after that, so after I left hospital, I came to the States, and you all know the rest."

It was quiet, then Paul spoke into the contemplative hush, "Why didn't they stay with you at the hospital Dray?"

He shook his head, and blinked back tears, "I-I didn't want to see them. I didn't want them to know where I was, so I had myself transferred to another hospital. A private hospital, out of the country."

Cele gasped, "Oh my God. Draco. No wonder they were so happy to see you. No wonder you passed out. Honey!"

"It's okay Cele. We're all working it out now, I guess. I missed them, so I'm glad it's happening. Glad they found me."

Callie brushed away the tears brought on by her friend's pain, determined to lift the pall in the air. "So you haven't had sex since you were 18? Draco that is pathetic. You've got to be backed up something awful."

Paul, easily distracted by all things sexual, giggled, "Oh my God--we are _so _leaving you alone tomorrow!"

Draco shook his head, "You are all terrible."

"No, what's terrible is not getting any for five years. _That's_ terrible!" Michael laughed at the blush warming Draco's cheeks.

Bree cleared her throat, "Okay, okay, enough embarrassment….for now…'coz this is the best material we have ever had on Mojo here. But seriously, what are you going to do now, Mojo? It's obvious that he's still hung up on you. I mean--he's been waiting for you too right? He's not seeing anybody back home is he?"

"No. He wouldn't do that. Harry's…really very old-fashioned that way, and I guess I am too. There was never any question that we wouldn't be faithful to each other. And he's--he's the kind of man who will only have one love in his life. I'm just fortunate that it's me."

"That sounds so nice, Mojo," Bree sighed wistfully, "that's the kind of love I want to have."

Draco glanced at Michael then looked back at his friend, "It'll happen for you, Bree. You just have to open your eyes and see what's there"

Michael shifted in his seat, "So how are you two going to make this work. He lives in London right?"

"No, actually he's teaching at our old school in Scotland. But I think he'll probably visit every couple of weeks. His family is rather well off so he can afford it. And we'll talk every day, and write. We're not letting go again."

From the backseat Cele harrumphed, "Well it's about time you grew some sense, sweetie. If I'd know you'd been leaving that fine man hanging all this time I would'a--"

Draco smirked, "Yes sunshine, we all know what you would'a, which is why I didn't say anything. I don't think I was ready before. I'm ready now." Draco took a deep breath as they pulled into the driveway. He was definitely ready now. He was settling in his chair when Hermione pulled up behind the Expedition, and before he knew it Harry was beside him.

"Missed you," he leaned over and brushed a kiss across Draco's lips.

"We were apart for half an hour, Harry," the blond chuckled.

"I still missed you."

Draco laughed, "Well c'mon then." He wheeled over to his guests, and made arrangements for breakfast the next morning while firming their plans for the trip to Santa Inés Market. He waved to his laughing housemates as Harry sped him up the porch and into the house. "They're going to think you're in a rush to shag me."

Harry slammed Draco's bedroom door closed, and ripped at his shirt, "I _am_ in a rush to shag you." He pulled Draco into his arms and fell backwards onto the bed. "Merlin's beard, Dragon, I want you so much. I am on fire for you." He took his lover's mouth in a ferocious kiss, happily ceding his position as Draco took control.

He groaned as Draco pulled back, "What do you want Harry? Tell me."

He didn't know what he wanted exactly; just being here in bed with Draco, in bed with his lover was more than he'd hoped for just a day ago. And as always it was perfect between them, but there was always more. He calmed himself a bit, spelling their clothes away, and considered, watching the progression of his hand as it trailed down Draco's stomach. Beautiful. When he'd reached his lover's navel he leaned closer substituting his lips for his fingers, and then his tongue for his lips, savouring the feel and taste of the small aperture, the mark of Draco's connection to life. He licked every inch of skin he could reach, then trailed down further playfully nipping along the way and smiling at the shivery flutters that coursed through Draco's abdomen causing the hard muscle and silk soft skin to ripple deliciously. Draco's body was flushed and glistened with a light sheen of sweat.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his own body taut with anticipation.

What did he want? This. His heart beat faster, as his lips first touched the throbbing column of flesh.

"Dragon…I want to taste you, feel you, love you," he whispered then swallowed down Draco's length.

Draco tossed his head back and groaned, delighting in the sensations wrought from his body by Harry's sensuous mouth.

"Ah, Harry, so good," he praised and lifted up on one elbow to watch him. The miracle of Harry's mouth surrounding him, warming him with wet heat as his tongue bathed him, shooting his desire higher. Harry hummed and Draco fell back, eyes closed content just to feel.

"So…good," he gasped. "Too good…Harry!" He cried as he reached the pinnacle of arousal, spending himself down Harry's throat.

With a grin Harry settled beside him, nearly purring as he stroked idly over Draco's glowing satiated body. "You are exquisite," he said, wrapping himself closer to his lover.

"Mmm…I think that's supposed to be my line," Draco slurred tiredly. "Haveta take care of you though."

Harry blushed a little and guided Draco's hand down to feel the wet stickiness between his legs. "I was so caught up in you…I--just being with you, watching you, feeling you…it was enough," he said finally.

Draco kissed him sweetly, and with a touch of wandless magic Harry spelled them clean. He draped an arm around his lover's waist, pulling him back as close as possible, nestling his nose against Draco's long pale neck. "Love you Dragon."

"I love you too Harry," Draco mumbled, already slipping into sleep.

Tbc….

Thanks for reading! Please Review!


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